


The Devil's Tears

by typewriterandtea



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewriterandtea/pseuds/typewriterandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU // Andrea goes back to Miranda in Paris, unable to leave the woman who she has come to care about. A series of events follow which force the pair together. Inspired by the song "The Devil's Tears" by Angus and Julia Stone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paris When It Rains

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something for this pairing for a while, so I've finally decided to take the plunge and start, especially as I'll have a bit of extra time over the next few weeks. It always takes me a while to get used to writing new characters, so I can't promise that everyone is completely in character. This will probably be a slow burner, but we'll get there. For anyone wondering, this was inspired by Angus and Julia Stone's song 'Devil's Tears'.

**_"He said "I am the devil, boy, come with me_ **

**_And we'll make many storms"_ **

**_He offered me the universe_ **

_**But inside my heart there's a picture of a girl"** \- Angus and Julia Stone - "Devil's Tears"_

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Paris When It Rains**

Andy had walked away from Miranda - abandoned her like some damsel on the steps of the Place de la Concorde.

Yet, she hadn't managed to run away.

_She had gotten as far as the airport._

In fact, she hadn't even been able to get out of the car. The momentary adrenaline from abandoning Miranda, walking away from it all, had left as quickly as it. By the time the car pulled up to the entrance of the departures terminal, Andy was gripping the handle of the door for dear life.

What she had experienced wasn't the same as the last time she had almost walked away, when Miranda had sent her on the seemingly impossible task of finding the Harry Potter manuscript. It had been her hunger for a career, her refusal to throw away after all those months of being ' _Miranda Girl_ ', that had brought her back to Runway - and Miranda.

This time - it was something else.

_Loyalty._

As Andy walked away from Miranda, she was confident that she was making the right decision. She got as far as the departures gate at Charles de Gaulle before she realised her mistake. Something pulled her back to Paris...and _back to Miranda._

The walk from the hotel lobby to the Presidential Suite felt like an eternity. Miranda would skin her alive for this. Though Andy had no doubt that she could live, and gladly live, with having to listen to the sharp orders of " _that's all_ " and being on the firing end of the dragon's fury.

If nothing else, Miranda would get her punishment on Andy for embarrassing her in front of the press.

Oh god, the press. They were going to have a field day with this.

She could practically see the headlines already - **_"Assistant walks out on Dragon Lady"_**

As the elevator arrived at the top floor, Andy adjusted the blazer she was wearing, burying her hands nervously in her pockets to stop herself from fidgeting. Miranda would no doubt lecture her on social appearances if she saw her assistant fidgeting.

Her Manolos came to a stop outside the double doors of the suite. Biting the inside of her lip, she contemplated whether she should knock the door or walk straight in with the key Miranda had provided her. Deciding on the former, Andrea raised her hand to lightly hit her knuckles against the mahogany wood. Several moments passed before a faint "Come in" sounded from the other side.

Pushing open the door, Andy cautiously stepped inside the suite, letting the door slowly swing shut behind her. She had effectively entered the dragon's lair. Stepping through the small entrance lobby, she placed her Longchamp tote down beside Miranda's trusty Lady Dior, continuing to wheel her suitcase behind her.

It was then that she came face to face with the woman herself.

Wrapped in a grey silk La Perla robe and sipping on a glass of gin and tonic, Miranda looked as though she didn't have a care in the world, but Andy knew better than that. Her hair no longer had the look of smooth, effortless grace, instead her reading glasses had been perched upon the crown of her head, and the longest strands of her fringe had been tucked behind her ear. They were the sort of things only someone very close to Miranda would notice; only something _she_ would notice.

"Where have you been?" Miranda asked, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though she was attempting to hold herself together. It had taken all of Miranda's willpower to keep her voice level, to stop the corner of her lip from quivering. From showing how just relieved she was that Andrea was here, that she hadn't ran off, or worse, taken ill.

She refused to show Andrea how emotional she was.

No one had ever walked away from Miranda, ex-husbands excluded of course. No one had made her feel helpless before. When she had turned around, expecting to find Andrea walking behind her at a glacial pace, her heart had momentarily skipped a beat as she searched for the familiar hazel eyes amongst the sea of flashing lights. The younger woman's name had escaped her lips before she could stop it; her action not going unnoticed by the media around her.

Miranda had lost count after the twenty seventh phone call and tenth voice message.

"I'm sorry, Miranda...I just…" Andy paused, pressing her lips together as she breathed deeply. "I needed some air" She explained, after all, it was hardly a lie. Miranda's words of " _everybody wants to be us_ " combined with her betrayal of Nigel, had set off a rage of anger in her. A fear of becoming trapped in a world that could lead her to becoming just like her mentor. " _I see a lot of myself in you_ " Miranda had claimed, and in that moment, Andy's life had flashed before her eyes.

No, she wasn't like Miranda. She would never have stabbed Nigel in the back.

Yet, she had over-reacted, in the heat of the moment. Andy had tried to run away, but couldn't even do that. Miranda had some kind of a hold over her; one that not even Andy could understand.

Miranda had essentially stabbed Nigel in the back, and the anger that had filled her veins at such betrayal had quickly been replaced by fear and anxiety. Would Miranda someday sell her out for the sake of her career? Nigel had practically given up his personal life for the sake of his career - and Miranda - yet she still took away what should have rightfully been his, to save her own precious career. If that was what Miranda did to a 'friend', what would she do to someone who was nothing more than an assistant to her?

If Miranda had noticed her luggage, then she made no mention of it. Instead, the older woman had stood up from her seat, her shoulders clearly stiff as she looked from the carpet to the paintings on the wall - anywhere except for Andy's face.

"Right well, I have to ring the twins." Miranda revealed, her fingers curling around the phone that was clutched in her right hand. As casually as she could, she stole a glance at the time on her Cartier wristwatch; it would be almost nine o'clock in New York, and no doubt the girls would be waiting by the phone for her call. "That's all" She concluded, pursing her lips as she straightened her back. Turning on her heel, Miranda headed through the suite before she shut the door to the master bedroom behind her. As the handle clicked back into place, Andy allowed herself a moment to compose herself.

The faint smell of Jo Malone cologne hung in the room, having a strangely comforting sensation on Andy; it was familiar, calming and most of all - it reminded her of Miranda.

Her shoulders dropped as she leaned back on the chaise lounge that had been previously occupied by Miranda.

Opening the exterior pocket of her luggage, she retrieved the pieces of hotel stationery that she had lifted from the desk in her room during her failed attempt at running away. The entire journey to the airport was spent trying to write her resignation letter - yet she got no further than scribbling ' _Miranda_ ' on the top left of the page in her familiar cursive handwriting. Folding the parchment over, she dropped it down in the bin that sat between the chaise lounge and the nearby side table.

As Miranda shut the door of the master bedroom, she leaned against it as she allowed herself to let out a sigh of relief. A hundred different scenarios had went through her head. Had Andrea just walked away? Did she take ill suddenly? Had something happened at home that caused her to bolt off like that?

It was only the vibration of ringing of her phone in her hand that brought Miranda out of her train of thoughts. "Hello" She greeted, bringing her phone to her ear as she pushed herself off the door. "Ms. Priestly, we've finished checking the rest of the nearby hotels but we've had no luck…" The man revealed, his voice filled with hesitation as he prepared himself to be grilled over the phone by the authoritative women who had sent his team on a wild goose chase around the city.

"She's back. You can stop looking," Miranda cut the man off, as she allowed herself to finally relax "That's all." She concluded, ending the call as she sat herself down on the bed.

She would deal with Andrea in the morning; for now, she had to sleep. It was already after three in the morning and they were expected to be at the first show before half nine. Though somehow, she doubted that she would get much sleep.

_Damn you, Andrea._

* * *

Andy's room was located across the suite from Miranda's. Irv had made a few chosen sharp remarks about Miranda's expenses before Paris, which had resulted in Andrea being placed in the smaller bedroom of the Presidential suite instead of paying the expense for another junior suite. Although the lounge, dining room and small kitchen separated the pair, Andrea still felt a little too close for comfort.

Hearing a rattling at the main door, Andy jumped to her feet, moving to unlock it before the noise would alert Miranda. "Where have you been?" Nigel exclaimed, keeping his voice low, shutting the door behind him. "You're bloody lucky Miranda didn't have half the police in Paris out looking for you". He insisted, already heading across the suite towards Andrea's room, waving her in before shutting the door behind them. Miranda had even enlisted him in the search for the second assistant, making him search every coffee shop and cafe around the hotel.

Andy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Miranda didn't care; all she was worried about was explaining the scene that Andy had pulled by abandoning her in front of the press. "What are you playing at, Six?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper for fear of Miranda hearing him. It was a miracle that he had managed to slip into the room unnoticed.

"You could have left - had a life - but you came back" He exclaimed, his voice laced with a sense of astonishment as he eyed up the second assistant as though she was some spectre that might disappear at any moment.

No assistant had ever walked away from Miranda - let alone walk away then come back.

"Why did you come back?" Nigel asked, perplexed as he leaned against the wall nearest the windows which overlooked the busy metropolitan street below. It was one thing to walk away, it was another to come back.

"I honestly don't know" Andy confessed, shaking her head as she ran her fingertips through her curls, sitting herself down on the bed. Nigel pursed his lips, a habit he had picked up from Miranda, before shaking his head. "Get some sleep, Six. Who knows what tomorrow might bring" He advised, folding his arms as he headed towards the door of the bedroom, silently praying that Andrea wouldn't do anything else to upset Miranda.

Following Nigel out, she retrieved her luggage from the hallway, lugging it back into the bedroom with her. Glancing at the clock, she groaned at the time. There was no way she was going to be functioning properly in the morning - well, later in the morning. Changing out of her dress, Andy changed into her silk shorts and matching vest, moving under the covers as she placed her jewellery on the counter beside her.

She'd have to explain the disappearance of her phone to Miranda in the morning.

Why did she come back?

" _The person whose calls you always take - that's the relationship you're in_ " Nate's words floated back into her thoughts as she pulled the covers up over her.

_Damn you, Miranda._


	2. When It Rains, It Pours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the idea of the press incorrectly interrupting Miranda and Andy's relationship isn't a totally original one, but I hope to play this out a little differently than most. This chapter ended up being longer than I had planned, though that's hardly something to complain about. This chapter focuses a lot on Andy's internal monologue and thoughts, but I'm hoping to balance that out with a lot more focus on Miranda in the next chapter.

****_"I can't help but love you_  
Even though I try not to  
I can't help but want you  
I know that I'd die without you" – War of Hearts, Ruelle

* * *

 

**Chapter 2 / When It Rains It Pours**

Knock. Knock.

"Go away" Andy muttered, pulling the covers over her head as she buried her head into the pillow, hoping to lull herself back to sleep. Clearly she had forgotten where she was, and even worse, who it could have been at the door.

It was probably Nigel – or worse, someone with yet another _overly extravagant_ gift for Miranda.

"Andrea" Miranda's voice floated through the door, the noise causing Andy to bolt up straight, the covers landing in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

Miranda couldn't see her like this.

"Coming Miranda" Andy called, stumbling out of bed before bending down to dig around her suitcase in search of her silk robe, moving to throw it over her shoulders before standing up. Catching a glance of her reflection, she momentarily rolled her eyes. Her hair never could cooperate in the morning. Grabbing a hair tie from the bedside table, she threw her hair into a messy bun at the top of her head. It was nowhere near as sleek and groomed as it would be if she was heading into the Runway Office.

When she opened the door, Andy was greeted by a certainly wide-awake Miranda Priestly. Only Miranda could look put together, hair and makeup sitting perfectly, this early in the morning. Granted, Andy doubted that there was any time in the day when Miranda didn't look as though she was about to attend an event to the calibre of the MET gala.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Miranda demanded, dropping the morning newspapers at the feet of the other woman as she placed her now free hands firmly on her hips. If looks could kill, Andy had no doubt that she would be six feet under.

_Well, good morning to you to Miranda._

"Miranda, I don't have a clue what you…" Andy began, her words trailing off as her eyes caught sight of the photo splashed across the front cover of the French newspaper. Although her French vocabulary skills exceeded no further than her AP French classes, she could loosely translate the bold title. **_'Priestly's Lovers' Tiff at Fashion Week'_**

Andy's lips formed a perfect 'O' shape as she struggled to find words to articulate her feelings, before settling on " _Oh_ ".

" _Oh_ " Miranda repeated mockingly, shaking her head as she took in the dumbfound appearance of her second assistant. Only Andy could respond to a situation of this significance with a childlike response.

Miranda watched closely as Andy bent down in front of her to pick the discarded newspaper up off the floor. If the startled look of shock and surprise was anything to go by, then Andy had been just as blindsided by this as she was. "Well, at least now I know you didn't have anything to do with this" Miranda concluded, breathing a sigh of relief as she shook her head. She shouldn't have jumped to conclusions; with the exception of yesterday, Andy was the most dedicated of the dozens of assistants who had passed through Miranda's office over the years.

She should have known better than to think Andy had any part in this.

"You couldn't have honestly thought this was my idea!" Andy protested, her rude awakening clearly giving her some form of 'dutch courage' as her manicured nails pierced into the thin paper. How Miranda thought that she of all people would betray her was beyond Andy's realm of thought. She was dedicated to her, devoted some would say, like a priestess to a fire breathing goddess of yester years.

The glare of Miranda's eyes lessened as she lowered her hands, breathing deeply as she regained her composure. "Let's just pray this hasn't hit the East Coast yet" Miranda insisted, turning on her heel as she left to allow Andrea to dress for the day.

Andy didn't want to be the one to break it to her that the gossip blogs would be all over this like an Upper East Side schoolgirl at a Kate Spade sample sale. When it came to spilling the tea, Miranda was more often than not, the favourite target of such gossip gurus. There was a part of her, the part that made sure such articles failed to cross Miranda's desk or enter her line of sight, that wished she could help brush this all under the carpet.

If there was one thing she knew for sure – the press loves a scandal and a fall from grace, especially if they could usurp a Queen from her throne.

 

* * *

 

 

"Six!" Nigel called, knocking on the door impatiently, recalling that Miranda should be at a breakfast with Valentino. If the Editor in Chief found him banging on the door of her Presidential Suite, then heads would roll. Hearing the lock turn from the other side, he leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips as he thought of the best way to torment his friend over her feelings for their silver haired boss.

"Nigel! Lower your voice, this isn't a hideous skirt convention" Miranda exclaimed, shaking her head as she moved back through the suite, collecting the portfolio from the dresser before sitting herself down on the chaise lounge.

Cautiously, Nigel stepped into the suite, the morning newspapers huddled under his arm as he slipped into the smaller bedroom that belonged to the second assistant. Shutting the door behind him, Nigel was tempted to lock and bolt the door. Though not even a lock would stop Miranda from getting in if she so wished.

"Isn't she meant to be having breakfast with Valentino?" Nigel asked, unceremoniously dumping the newspapers down onto Andy's vanity table before sitting himself down onto of the comforter on her bed, recovering from his brush with 'Satan' herself.

Andy groaned as she buried her head into her hands, "Oh god, she must have forgotten" She mumbled, shaking her head as she picked up her moleskin notebook to jot down the fact she would have to call Valentino's people and apologise on behalf of Miranda.

As Nigel tapped on the vanity, drawing Andy's attention towards the newspaper which caused her face to curl up into a grim expression of annoyance. It took every ounce of her self-control to stop her from curling back under the covers and blocking out the rest of the world. "How do they come up with this crap?" Andy asked, folding her arms as she glared down at the feeble excuse for journalism that made her skin crawl. Had they never heard of fact checking and multiple sources?

The photos alone with damning, even more so in the context that the journalist had placed them in. The photographer had caught a lucky break and managed to snap a photo of the moment Andy had abandoned her phone in the fountain, while another had an array of snapshots of Miranda's signature faux smile slipping from her face as Andy's absence became clear, before a look of panic set in as she searched the crowd for a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

_The jilted lover._

"Well, I mean…I always did suspect that there was something" Nigel confessed honestly, knowing that he was not the only one who had noticed the way that the women looked at each other. In fact, he noticed a change in Miranda before he saw one in Andy. No one else received the same attention and time as Andy – not even Stephen. No other assistant got to ride in the elevator with Miranda, or has such a close connection to the twins. "I could see how the situation could be misinterpreted" He concluded, sympathising with whatever poor journalist was no doubt topping Miranda's ever growing kill list.

There was the annual gala where Andy had saved Miranda from public humiliation at the hands of Stephen when he had intentionally stumbled in drunk, insulting Irv along the way and almost destroying the already delicate working relationship between Irv and Miranda. Andy had jumped in to Miranda's rescue, an act that no other assistant would have dared to try. Miranda Priestly didn't need help – that was, until Andy came along.

Sure, the girl even had her own order now on the Starbucks run.

"Be real, Nigel" Andrea rebuked, shaking her head as she contemplated the idea of ever acting on the feelings she had for Miranda. After all, Miranda saw her as nothing more than her second assistant. Andy herself didn't even know what these feelings were, only that there was something – a delicate string holding them together – that had stopped Andy from escaping, from running away and turning her back on the woman.

"Andrea" Miranda's sing-song voice floated through the suite, causing Andy to lift her head as she tried to put on a straight face. "Pray for me" Andy muttered, stepping back into her rockstud pumps before heading towards the lounge, leaving Nigel to collect his newspapers and see himself out.

By the time that Andy had reached the lounge, Miranda was already listing off her daily tasks while packing her essentials back into her Lady Dior. "Call Valentino and apologise for my absence at breakfast. Let Marc Jacob's people know that I want to see the sketches for the collection as soon as we get back to New York on Sunday evening. Book us a table for afternoon tea at Laduree, I promised the girls I would bring them each home some new keychains or ornaments or something. Oh, and Andrea, do make sure that Karl…" Miranda lectured, her eyes fixed on the task at hand as she kept her back to the younger woman, continuing to dictate her lists of task until Andy's voice broke her trail of thought.

" _Us_?" Andy questioned with an arched eyebrow, Miranda never refused to herself with the ' _us_ ' pronoun, always exclusively ' _I_ ' or occasionally ' _we'_ when discussing outings with the twins – or once in a blue moon – with Stephen. She could hardly mean the two of them, yet who else would she have accompany her to afternoon tea? Nigel was simultaneously the most and least likely candidate.

"Yes Andrea, _us_ " Miranda repeated, emphasising the pronoun as she slipped her hands into a pair of black leather Mulberry gloves, finally turning to face the younger woman in front of her.

The journey through the hotel had been a silent one, with the exception of the scribbling of Andy's Mont Blanc pen, an unwanted gift that Miranda had passed on to her, and the clicking of keys on Miranda's blackberry.

 

* * *

 

 

Four fashion shows later, and Andy had never been so thankful to see a hotel in her life. The press had spent more time focusing on Miranda and herself than they had on the actual clothes. For each of the shows, the security had been forced to take them out of the back exits to avoid the waiting press. Questions had been thrown left and right.

_'_ _Ms. Priestly, can you confirm your relationship?'_

_'_ _Does Mr. Priestly know?"_

_"_ _Have you reconciled your differences?"_

Andy had hardly time to set down her bag and stepped out of her heels before Nigel stepped into her bedroom, clearly having used one of the spare keys to get into the suite. "How's 'hurricane Priestley affair' going?" Nigel questioned as stepped into Andy's bedroom, glad that Miranda had taken that moment to engage in her once-a-fashion-week conversation with Anna Wintour in the hotel lobby, so he could slip away and visit the second assistant. "We're just not going to comment, clearly" Andy sighed, silently thankful that she had abandoned her phone in the foundation the evening beforehand. At least that way she could put off talking to her parents and her friends – oh god, and Nate – until she got back to New York.

_Emily would kill her._

In fact, Andy was surprised the brit hadn't tried to coax Nigel into doing the deed for her.

The press was even worse than before. Security had even been called to help keep the press away along enough for the Mercedes to be able to get onto the main road.

After all it's not every day that a feared and esteemed Editor in Chief and Queen of Fashion is reported to be in a relationship with her second assistant.

Andrea groaned as she buried her head into her hands. The press had no idea about the divorce. This – whatever this was – had been reported by the media as being a _scandalous affair._

If anything was sure to drive Stephen back to his precious Jack Daniels and bourbon, then this would do the trick.

Other than accusing her of being the source behind the article, Miranda had yet to mention the scandal. In fact, she appeared to be ignoring it all together; with the exception of the phone call Andy had overheard while they were waiting on the car to be brought around after the last fashion show of the morning.

"Roy, take a security guard with you when you're driving the twins to and from Dalton. The press is going to be all over this" Miranda ordered, looking down to glance at her crimson red manicure, as though she was simply commenting on the weather, and not the biggest 'scandal' of the year,

Nothing mattered to Miranda more than the twins, and it was only natural that her first thought in this fiasco would be the girls.

They didn't deserve any of this.

Why had she walked away from Miranda?

If she had of recomposed herself and breathed, instead of storming off like a jilted lover, then they wouldn't be in this situation.

No doubt someone at Elias-Clark had called Leslie to get a start on damage control.

If nothing else, at least the publicity would be free PR for the magazine.

Stephen was going to skin her alive. After all, she hadn't exactly been his favourite. That night on the stairs, when she had stumbled upon their argument, she was sure that he had looked her up and down with elevator eyes like a lion sniffing the blood of his prey.

Before Andy could think of anymore scenarios that could possibly end up with her head on a silver platter or stuffed next to Miranda's faux fur coats, the voice of the Editor in Chief once again floated into her ear range.

"Mommy will talk to you first thing in the evening, Cassidy" Miranda promised, her blackberry held against her ear as she pressed her lips together, having just reapplied her signature Tom Ford lipstick.

Lifting her head out of her hands, Andy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she stood up from her seat and headed to the lounge– always cautious of the standard of etiquette that Miranda expected of those who remained in her inner circle. It seemed the sound of Miranda's voice had been enough to send Nigel running off – for now at least.

There was a pregnant pause, and it took the second assistant a minute to catch on to the fact that Miranda was examining her with an even closer eye than usual. In the same manner as she had done after her makeover, when Miranda had returned from her four-day business trip to L.A. and found a transformed brunette waiting on her.

"Your Chanel boots" Miranda commented, and in that moment, Andy could have sworn that she had saw a smile grace the features of the silver haired woman. It wasn't the sort of smile that she had imagined the infamous 2001 Tom Ford smile was like, but a genuine and heartfelt smile that made Andy's breath catch in the back of her throat.

It was no lie that the Chanel boots were Andy's favourite of all her acquisitions from the closet at Runway. "They're still no match for your Louboutins" Andy replied, internally rolling her eyes as she wondered what on earth had made her speak. There was something about those spiked patent leather Louboutins that unnerved her; always had and always would. "They always did look good on you" Andy confessed, her hand finding its way to her neck as she glanced away nervously.

_Was she trying to flirt?_

Wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her whole, Andy almost missed the gentle hum that left the lips of her companion. _Almost._

"You need something with a bit more of a statement in the jewellery department" Miranda mused aloud, stepping forward to take in the appearance of the dainty silver chain that laid flat against Andy's chest. "I know just the thing" She declared, her hand brushing Andy's chest before she turned around to head through the suite to the lounge that had become the hub for the samples, gifts and trinkets that Miranda had acquired over the trip.

Andy stood frozen on the spot, listening to the click clacking of Miranda's heels, which gave her a minute to focus on the situation at hand, before the silver haired woman returned.

In Miranda's hand lay a red box, the unmistakable gold lining making it obvious that it was a Cartier box before the name fell into Andy's line of sight. Whatever it was – it would probably cost more than four months' rent.

"Miranda, I couldn't possibly…" Andy started, though she was silenced by the unmissable glaring of her companion's eyes. As the lid was lifted, the brooch came into Andy's line of sight.

Make that eight months' rent.

It was in the shape of an orchid, white gold surrounding the platinum and a six carat ruby catching the light against the dozens of smaller diamonds. Lifting it from velvet cushion, Miranda reached forward to pierce the pin through the material of Andy's blazer, securing it before stepping back slightly to examine her handy work.

"Now, freshen up Andrea – we need to leave in fifteen minutes for Laduree, then we have the meeting at the Chanel on Rue de Cambon, then the gala at the Louvre" Miranda ordered, her fingers once more outlining the extravagant gift that she had pinned to Andy's 'Ralph Lauren' blazer, before she stepped back and headed towards her master bedroom to change into her second outfit of the day.

_When it rained, it poured._


End file.
